Silence greeted Loki's plea. He sat back, cross legged on the ground, and rubbed a weary hand over his face. He thought the girl had not returned, but her patient voice drifted down to him.

'What's your name?' she asked.

He had no reason to lie, nor could he muster enough brainpower to come up with an alias.

'Loki'. He raised his head, half hoping that his sight might have returned, or at least that by gazing blindly in her direction and listening to her voice he could form an idea of her appearance. He couldn't.

'Well, Loki' she said, taking him by the hand and gently helping him to his feet, 'do you have a place to stay tonight?'

That she even asked the question must have meant that he looked more dishevelled than he imagined. It had been a long time since he felt anything akin to shame, but the blush creeping up his neck was indication enough of his embarrassment. He reminded himself that his swallowed pride would have to remain where it was, for the time being. He brushed his hands self consciously down his front, feeling the material of his garments. A plain, and probably dirty, tunic and rough trousers. She hadn't enquired about or commented on his blindness; presumably that too was apparent.

'No, I don't' he answered in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Loki didn't see the sympathetic smile of his would -be rescuer.

'You look like you could do with a good meal too. I can try to get you set up at a hostel, but for tonight I think we need a short term solution. Come on.'

She put her arm through his. He could tell there was a height difference and a waft of something flowery assailed his nostrils. Aside from those scant details, the young woman was still a mystery. Whoever she was, she had shown him more kindness than he had ever received from anyone, mortal or god, and certainly more than he deserved (if he was being truthful). Loki still clung to a fading hope that Thor might intercede with Odin on his behalf or, if not, that he would come to Midgard himself to find him and bring him home in contravention of his father's orders. The likelihood of such a reprieve seemed to shrink with every guided step he took, chaperoned by the girl at his side who seemed to have taken his blindness, his arrogance and his strange appearance in her stride. He did not even know her name.

'And what am I to call you?' Loki's curiosity had got the better of him.

'Josephine', came the short reply.

She really didn't seem to be in the habit of revealing anything about herself. Loki understood that; the impulse to keep one's cards close to one's chest. It made self preservation that much easier. Nevertheless, he knew that he would never be able to gain her trust if he wasn't forthcoming with answers. And he also knew that her trust would be useful. Loki was ever the schemer and that would never change, however far he might fall. Resolved as he was to remain an open book to Josephine, he could not make any promises either to himself or to her that he would be completely honest. That, he observed wryly, was not necessary.

But he suspected that she was the kind of person who could spot a liar, or indeed a prevaricator, at a hundred paces. Thus far she had not questioned him about anything except his name and yet she seemed content to bring him into her home. Either that or she was simply reckless.

They had walked in near silence, Loki lost in his thoughts, as Josephine occasionally alerted him to a step or a kerb while he uttered quiet profanities every time he missed one and stumbled. The sounds of life surrounded him; cars, people, laughter. He did not know how long they had been walking or how far but eventually she brought them to a halt. Loki ran a pale hand through his tangled hair again; he smelt damp earth and heard the jangle of keys as Josephine rustled around in a bag. They must be at her front door, in her garden.

'Here we are', she declared, ushering him gently over the threshold.